Doloroso Cantabile
by Randomness from Boredom
Summary: She'd been his friend but he didn't care about her, although he knew the inner darkness that was slowly consuming her day by day. In the end, as she falls, he realizes he could have saved her from herself. My best-written fanfic.


**IMPORTANT NOTE READ OR ELSE**: I know I put this idea for this fanfic on my profile as an abandoned project. Well, I continued it for a few reasons, the main one being inspired by the fic Strings of Melody by CrapPishh. Also, I wanted to write an 'emotionally touching' fanfic cuz lots of other writers do that. It's not my type, but I wanted to try something new.

This is my first one-shot story, so review, or die.

September 2nd, 2011 update: I added some content even though no one's gonna read this by now. I'm just seeing if I can still write.

Also, Doloroso Cantabile means "singing softly" or something like that in Italian. You'll see why I used Italian instead of English by the end.

* * *

_**Doloroso Cantabile**_

by Randomness from Boredom

* * *

The sun is setting, taking away the light of the sky. Between two ten-year-olds, a boy and girl, a light is also fading.

"I wish we didn't have school tomorrow. Then we could walk around town at night," the boy says wistfully. He looks at his companion, then back to the magnificent sky.

She smiles, turning her homely face into one that could be considered plain. The soft wind teases her short frizzy hair, ruffling it into tangles that would take a while to remove later.

"We're too young and weak to face the criminals. Maybe after we start training. After we level and level together, we'll be superhuman!"

The thought of joining a job class was the boy's priority. Throughout most of his life, he had thought of little else. If he stuck to his ambition long enough, he could gain strength, status, fame, wealth, and popularity.

All those treasures he coveted would earn him friends and girlfriends more beautiful than the child beside him, he believed. A pang of shame slowly settled upon his conscience as he looked upon the undesirable, unloved, unwanted girl. A girl that was secretly one of his best friends, one who appreciated every characteristic of him, a girl he could not be proud of.

_I can't believe I let myself be seen with you,_ he thinks. He cringes at her when she turns to him with a certain stare in her large, innocent eyes.

_Oh no, does she like me? Ew. Maybe I'll tell her I have cooties. No, she might tell other people. Then I can never hang out with the cool kids!_

"Are you okay?" she asks in a squeaky voice, a voice that irritates everyone in their entire classroom and possibly school. It was only one of the several reasons why hardly anyone wanted to look upon her, and it hardly contributed to her overall revolting demeanor.

"Eh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm just kind of worried about that reading test in two days." His tone of normalcy was believable enough.

She pats his arm, and at her pasty, sweaty touch he attempts to keep his disgusted face completely in his head.

"You'll be fine," she reassures him, smiling brightly to show horribly crooked teeth. He looks away and sighs.

"Let's go back home," he suggests. "I'll need to wake up early tomorrow. You'll need your energy to fight off those bullies. You'll need to run away from them as fast as you can so they don't catch you and throw you off this cliff."

The mention of bullies refuses to dim her smile as she walks alongside him back home. The world shows her hardly any care or love, but her friendship with this boy lit a candle that went forth to light several more.

Her only friend, her only star in a dark abyss.

But stars do die, and become harmful black holes.

* * *

She watches alone as she plays with strands of her coarse brown hair, hiding in the shadows of groups of children tightly bunched together as they chat about things she fears she will never know. This is after school and at the school's front, and everyone stays and chats or do their talking as they walk home.

The little ten-year-old girl sets her strict gaze on him as the clouds float slowly above their heads in heaven, as the sun shines and illuminates the children's joyful faces. His short orange hair catches the sunlight and shines brightly like a halo as he sets his gaze towards a pretty girl, whistling at her, but the pretty girl ignores him.

Laughing with a group of friends nearly as pathetic as her yet accepted, he is not conscious of her blue-gray eyes set on his every little movement.

Wishing that movement could be an embrace for her. What he wanted to be couldn't possibly be near a dark, pathetic loner like her. Even though she knew that deep in his heart he felt for her, outside he had to hate her because he believed that the greater person he was changing into was too good for her.

As he turns, he catches her wide-eyed stare and the shiver that runs down her short, frail body, and his bright smile of a hundred stars drops as he catches sight of her mousy face.

She disgusts him.

* * *

"Alright, I'm a warrior!" he shouts as if he has won a battle, walking out of the Warrior's Sanctuary.

Now the girls would love him more, he thinks. Over his life, his main target was to satisfy his yearning to finally be together with one of the most beautiful girls, yet he had never come close, being the too-simple person he was. He yearned for the best, always ignoring the worst in his pursuit of luxury.

On the rocky ground of Perion on Victoria Island, he feels as if he has come so far after finishing school and recieving his first job. Now, after being properly educated and equipped not with new swordsmanship skills but also the abilty to read and write, he can set off on his own in the wide world of Windia, hopefully attaining the position of a dragon knight as he wishes. He is made for life, or so he thinks.

As his eyes dart through the pages of his new book, he is distracted by the movement of a small figure.

Looking up so he won't bump into her, he turns his head up only to see her retreat, and his expression turns to one of slight disgust.

"H-hi," she says timidly, a diminutive greeting accompanied by the tiniest wave, her position looking as if she's unable to decide to proceed into the sanctuary. "I guess you just got your first job advancement?"

He looks her down degradingly: she is only the most pathetic, creepiest girl of all Windia, her appearance always mussed and her back always bent as if a sack was slung across its thinness. She is only the girl that everyone wants to cast aside as if she is nothing more than a mouse, a pest. Her eyes are always open wide as if wanting love and pity, her fingers always in her mouth that sometimes appears as if it speaks to herself.

No, not even a person, only something you walk by and push aside if it ever gets in your path.

Who knows what she does secretly or thinks about? All he knows is that she excels in playing the piano, her music light and capitivating, at least to twelve-year-olds when she played it in school talent shows. She probably could even grow up to compose her own songs, given her talent so rapidly increasing. He could play too, but not as well, placing only second in a piano playing contest after her first place.

Flatly, he says, "Yeah. You gonna get it too?"

Taking no care of how flat and uninterested he sounds, she says brightly, "Nice! I'm just here because my brother said he would come meet me here because he wants to be a warrior too. How coincidental we meet. I'm planning on being a fire and poison wizard here, you?"

"Dragon knight. I like warriors." Then he runs off quickly, as if he remembers he's late for a meeting or he's forgotten something else critical.

* * *

What a mistake she makes, walking into that Magic Library in the first place.

Magic does not work out too well for the young girl, and she knows it well as the light of her Energy Bolt sputters and dies in her tiny hands.

She tries to create the magic again and again, each time listening to the failing sound of the mass of energy sputtering and dying.

That decision to suddenly change her mind and run quickly from Kerning City to Ellinia should never have been made-why, she'd never even had experience of being either class. It was a spontaneous pick, not made to be weighed for time and made to be done without thoughts and predictions of the future.

A decision made too quickly, but one day she could be thankful for it once she could master magic.

"Energy Bolt!" the mousy girl calls again. Hurling an electric blue ball of energy at a red snail, a feeling of disappointment takes over the faint glow of hope that dwells within. It takes two of the attacks to completely annihilate the little snail, two attacks to wipe its lazy countenance off its slimy face.

With all her energy, she summons up all her mana within to try to release as much of it as she can on the next snail that comes. As it slugs along towards her, she can feel the power rising up from deep inside.

"Energy-"

The blade of a spear strikes the snail, eradicating it completely before any magic is even released. The little magician turns around, ready to shake her little fists at whoever had comitted such an atrocity against a poor innocent girl.

_He_ stands there, proud and a spearman-to-be with a spear and a look of domination.

"Slow retard," he scathingly says with a grin.

If I hadn't loved you, I would swear that you'll pay.

* * *

Pain explodes directly on her nose, and for a short second she can feel the warm flow of blood down her bony face.

"Shut the hell up, stupid-head!" the purple-haired girl screams, pushing the mousy, brown-haired down, then slamming her face on the hard ground.

Blood flows from her mouth as the mousy magician slowly picks herself up from the damp, dark ground of the ant tunnel, her thin arms shaking as they push her body up to where she can stand in front of her bully. An anticipating crowd watches the horrid mistreatment, obviously looking at the beaten little girl as if she has no human soul.

The purple-haired girl yells at her, pointing a finger. "Don't ever talk of necromancy again, you hear, just because you're stupid and weak! We'll get you someday for it! Live with yourself, or if you will not, go feed yourself to a balrog! And don't ever call me a bitch ever again! If you want to be powerful and popular, go ask the devil for powers!"

Another punch, and the magician falls down, her cheek bleeding as profusely as her heart. Beaten for merely expressing her feelings.

Does it have to be this way? Where are our human ways?

* * *

"I, Grendel the Really Old, officially declare you a brand-new fire and poison wizard!"

She tries to fake a smile at the old man as he passes her after the second-job-advancement. She must smile; he is proud of her for going past her difficulties and acheiving level 30 at last, after a year and a half of hard work as a magician.

"I'm honored," she says, such verbal irony!-she doesn't even feel a bit proud that it took her so long to achieve this, not even a whit of pride in her for all she was.

Level 30. Anyone could do that. It was a basic achievement not even needed to be happy about, yet some celebrate it anyway.

Level 30. Can she go any farther? Here she stands in the Magic Library, looking down at the plain wooden floor clad in her purple fairy top and bottom, wondering if it was normal for some to be like her: weak and despondent. It had been too hard for her to do this, and that exorbitant amount of effort was only needed to achieve things worthwhile to celebrate about. She wasn't too ridiculously weak to want to kill herself, but she felt that her un-athletic lack of power made her insignificant and disabled her to be acknowledged as s_omeone_.

She wants power so badly. She wants so much.

Earlier, before her job advancement and when she was only level 28, she had already attempted necromancy to help her, yet failed and thus her spell backfired, scarring her face for life. Yet she wanted to continue it, thinking it would be better for her.

She could go as far as she would to cure this _sickness_.

"Hey, aren't you anxious to try out your new powers, the one I gave you?" Grendel says merrily, yet roughly pulling her out of the dark abyss of her mind. "Come on now, you can't stay here long, you got a life to lead!"

But what life is there without power, without happiness, without friendship, and without _him_?

* * *

_Roar._

Another golem down underneath this too-bright sun, about fifty more to go before I go home to eat, thinks the spearman, now level 52 and fifteen years old as he trains with a friend in the Golem's Temple.

That friend, he treasures most out of everything. She is young and strong, a beautiful blonde bowman able to satisfy any man with her killer smile and voluptous frame. At level 63, she trains him, yet does not quite connect with him heart-to-heart, and they haven't known each other long.

But, he knows she is beautiful, and she is desired and he must keep her, especially after being rejected by the last few beauties met. Even a lowly boy such as him would give anything to be able to follow her always, capitivated by the golden sheen of her hair and the twinkle in her sea-green eyes.

Her image even distracts him as he continues to slay golems with his serpent's tongue. The graceful way she moved-he could imagine her moving for a man's desire-

"Hey!" calls a familiar female voice, irritating to the ear. The spearman whips around and sees the magician again, much to his dismay.

As expected, she's around his level, wearing a dark calaif robe and a dark circlet, her wand a sea-green cromi. Yet there is a difference since he last saw her days ago, a plain difference compared to those days, an unbelievable difference compared to the time around their second job advancements.

The skin once overtly tanned and quite blotchy has down lightened to a shade so sickly pale she is like a corpse, rotting and fading. Her eyes are bloodshot, yet she doesn't even seem to be tired, only active and adventurous. And her body, always remarkably thin, is now as _sickeningly _thin as a human of her height can be.

He blankly greets, "Oh, it's you." Deep inside, he wants to speak with more emotion to respond to her happiness towards seeing him. She has always been happy seeing him unlike any other girl, yet she could not compete with his pride for knowing he was too good for her and deserved better and should continue to seek better girls.

Can't talk to her. Can't be happy with her. Can't be her friend.

Why does she keep her morale up when everyone hates her?

"Well, what are you going to do here?" he says, knowing the beautiful girl will disapprove of him ever acting like he's with the mousy girl.

She happily replies, "Well, I'll train here!" And so, she goes forwards to face the golems with her cromi ready to fight. He watches, ready to be entertained by how awkward and stupid her movement looks.

"Magic Claw!" her high voice cries.

Frighteningly, the blue lights of her Magic Claw is accompanied by a red one in between. She continues doing this on the golem, taking only two attacks to kill it.

Surprisingly, no, suspiciously strong for her appearance. How could it be?

"What the hell are you doing to be like that!" he shouts loudly, running towards her and pushing her facedown on the ground. "We don't need another dark magician! Those should die!"

Although she forces back tears, she grins secretly at her knowledge she's become stronger than him.

* * *

_"You stupid noob! Get out of this place! Stop asking us for money and stuff! You're one of the worst creatures ever, to do what you do!"_

All the jeers, all the mocking, all the spurning, and all the demoralizing of the world has made its way deep into the girl, blackening her heart.

She now sits in her home, looking at the floor, letting her anger build up and slowly consuming her wretched mind. Now somewhat skilled in black magic, she can go unleash herself upon all who had wronged her.

All those people who lived their lives normally as if everyone was equal. They thought that no one could be so low they would have to crane their necks up just to look at the normal standard of human life. Wronging her. Messing up her head and twisting her into this deformation.

Yes, she was still hated, even with the power of black magic. It had only made her worse in appearance and personality. It had transformed her closer to a monster than she ever was, not bringing her the dreams she wanted. Everyone's eyes still burned with hatred in their looks towards her, the flames rising even higher, although she had surpassed her generation in leveling, now a fire and poison _mage _andat already four levels of experience with the third job.

Unleash the pain. The misery. The darkness. Hatred. It's been years of it. From school until now, at sixteen years old she's been like an unnoticed piece of trash everyone steps on with intention but without feelings, without knowledge that she could feel too.

And the sadness and romance of her love for that one special boy, who had emotionally touched her yet withdrew to save his pride. At this, she takes out a sheet of blank sheet music, beginning to compose one final song with everything she felt towards him.

One last sorrowful song for him.

* * *

The dragon knight eagerly rushes out his home and towards the Cursed Sanctuary, eager to begin a new day with the dragon knight skills attained.

He can't wait to fight tauromacis and taurospears with skills like Dragon Roar. He's so happy he's a dragon knight at last, so much more powerful, prideful, and well-liked. At last, he was extremely close to the heaven he had always sought for: power and fame.

Then, he wonders if the thin little necromancer girl is third job advanced now, or if her necromancy drove her so insane that someone killed her in self-defense. Or she could have killed herself. Anything could happen to someone like that.

Days ago, she had slipped through his door a song she had composed by herself, but he had never looked at it. He only had glimpsed it just enough to see sheet music carefully inked, then had thrown the papers facedown on a table by the door.

A chubby figure runs towards the dragon knight, lighting up a smile on his face. But when the chubby boy comes nearer, the dragon knight can see that his friend's expression is not one to smile at.

The chubby ranger holds a newspaper in his hand, his expression afraid and his finger pointing to the newspaper.

"Look!" he cries out. "It's the dorky girl we went to school with, I'm sure it's her! Look at what's become of her!"

The dragon knight's eyes go wide at the large picture on the front of the _Maple Today_ newspaper and at the large headlines: _Multiple Killings in Kerning City Last Night. _The picture showed Kerning City and a somewhat blurred image of a female mage, yet he could still recognize her.

Is it _her_ work? Suddenly, the dragon knight realizes how terrible her life was to have forced her to be like that, and he knows that there had been a true heart within her that would never have let her do such crimes. A heart that needed to be cherished, yet was ignored for being under such an unsavory cover.

Should have told her kindly and help her, not only build her self-hatred.

And then her heart was gone.

He had just helped destroy it more than anything, and now the formerly innocent girl was nothing but her hatred.

* * *

_Underneath the night light of a hundred stars twinkling, like the light that used to shine in her eyes so long ago, she gazes out forwards with a look of fear and want quivering together in a frightening combination._

_She continued onwards underneath the stars, her large eyes focused ahead. He watches her, his wide eyes telling him what he feared to be the truth._

_Her hair ruffles by the wind, as she slowly emerges out towards a clearer area with each careful step. It was a place where they'd been together before after school, near the cliff where death locked its edges with the abyss of deep black waters down beneath. _

_The understanding of her intentions now slices through him like a knife._

_And he can no longer keep watching. He knows she's there, communicating with him through the powerful bond she had forged long ago._

_She must be there. It doesn't hurt to look._

"Ah-shit," the dragon knight mutters to himself as he sits up suddenly, his bedsheets slipping down to his waist. He opens his eyes fully, unchained by sleep, then quickly glanced at the sleeping figure of the pretty young female that lays next to him, the female he had been pursuing to suit his needs for female beauty. She was well-liked and famed, and so the dragon knight thought that it was best to take someone like her, even though they hardly related to each other.

Good, she's sound asleep in that curled-up position of hers, her blonde hair in a tangled mass beneath her limp head.

Stupid blonde wench. He watches her chest rise and fall as she slowly breathes in her sleep, that breathing he desires to be extinguished. He knows she's been in romantic capers with other men-piece of _shit._ What were the plentiful perquisites of sleeping with a bitch like that anyway, once a beauty he believed he loved?

Loving someone unfaithful was the sure way to throw out all your good, warm feelings. He knows she only sleeps with him because he finally grew more attractive and respected, but then there's many attractive young men.

The outside isn't everything. It seemed that everyone only looked at the covers of other people when choosing their romantic affections. There had only been one girl who had looked further down into the dragon knight to actually touch him.

Heavy sleep and the night's darkness in the room hides his running figure from her view as he slips out of the house, all his intentions set on finding the girl who had a true heart, the once-docile girl who deserved love, especially now that hatred was predominant in her diminishing world.

Outside, the dark setting of the depths of the Lith Harbor neighborhood surrounds him as he runs to find her, knowing she's as real as he is. He's been watching her from a far-off distance, but seeing not a dream-seeing _her._

Fear of crooks and bandits prowling about with the dark as their refuge is nothing compared to the fear he feels for her sparking within.

Deep within he'd known for a while he loved her, and only her. True heart for true heart.

* * *

_I can't continue with this life. There's no turning back. Time is impossible to reset. Time does not heal all wounds._

Her eyes strictly refuse to be overflowing with the tears as they gaze forlornly out into the ending scene before her, the night sky at the peak of its beauty.

Brilliance shimmers in every star and the moon that lit the darkening sky alive with the bright light they cast. Such brilliance in life, she thinks, an extravagant brilliance in the natural world we all need to see with our busy eyes, and what it truly holds beneath varying obstacles.

She breathed deeply, slowly exhaling in the coolness of the night air. Around her, flowers sway as the wind gently bends those graceful stalks and the grass that covers the very cliff in a lush blanket of green. The thin crème satin of her dress blows about her diminishing figure as the wind plays softly with the coarse thin curls of her brown hair. Movement is set against the still sky as birds fly carelessly and carefree in the air towards a faraway destination.

The cliff juts several feet above the dark sea, creating a constantly warning hazard for the venturesome wanderers who sought pleasure in exploring the land, daring and curious just as children as they begin to see life's true characteristics.

Beneath the sea slowly rises up in waves, lapping at the sand and taking the peachy grains and tiny rocks with the salty water as it returns. Over this cliff, the water is deep enough for only the toughest swimmers to brave as they touched the bottom with their hands, and then returning to the top, shivering and pulverized by the cold water's demanding pressure.

But in the depths of this area that a brave traveler could overlook only without a fear of heights and darkness, there were rocks. Not the fine round things that lay scattered among the beaches, but large, tall rocks like a cathedral's spire. Like how a dragon knight's spear could break and impale, these large builds of dark gray solidness could claim lives as well if they could take one that fell from a height such as that of the towering cliff above.

The view of the ocean distended in the sight of the young woman with every light step she took. Her pace was slow, and she is so shockingly pale as she'd always been, and more especially with the moonlight's glow upon her features.

Sadness against those features, she automatically smiles but so sadly, the sadness continuing to weigh down any rays of joy.

She has a right to be sorrowful.

_There will be no rest in the fire of minds, raging and conquering fire created only because of me,_ she thinks._ Because they fell underneath the weight of my suffering, I must let it end._

_I can never forget their screams that night in Kerning City as I killed them. I can never forget the other nights in the other towns as I tore children apart and let their blood stain their grieving, dying parents._

_A bad deed for a bad deed. The fuffilling absolution must be done, lives for lives, hearts for hearts. Feelings for feelings. No longer can I resolve this with that pleading, parasitic pleading. Can't beg for mercy. Can't push for the surface from here._

_I wronged myself and others; I didn't want to._

_I twisted my mind into what appeared too different to even be me anymore—it was something much too twisted, too dark, and too deformed to be just a terrible human being I could have changed._

_It changed in a way not how a young flower bud blooms, but instead like how an intricate stained glass craftwork shatters at the point of a thousand abyssal arrows. Yet I still remember the happiness around me that I had wanted to be a part of so badly, but now it can never be._

The sounds of laughter of the children she had always wanted to be like in her stream of thoughts suddenly died down into mourning. The sounds of love. The sounds of the life that was made for adoration of what she wanted to be.

She neared the very end of land—just a few more steps and she would need the ability to walk on air to survive.

Underneath her gaze now was the expanse of black liquid, cold and waiting. Consuming.

As always, the spires of rock showed an image of warning to have caution.

_Death steps away, only the transparent air in between, I want what we fear the most._

The sound of running behind her only is like the sound of the every day wind. It's not enough to turn her around until a male voice called her name.

"Don't go!"

A figure dashed towards her as she whirled around, angry at whoever it was that'd caught her in the act.

No longer having a heart, she can't feel a thing at the appearance of the dragon knight she had yearned for all these years.

"My god, go back to bed!" she whispers, a whisper with a forceful strength within.

He shakes his head vigorously, simply refusing. Shivering, he catches her thin wrists in his grasp as another chilling gust of wind ruffled his auburn hair. A desperately pleading look welled in his golden eyes, which looked directly into hers.

"Forget everything they've said," he says. "You can have life again, if you give everything a chance. If you just wait, everything falls away."

Such a soft, beautiful voice, and how attractive he's become, she thought, but it isn't for her. She wrenches herself from his strong grip, scowling.

"Some things are made to always stay. Some things just have a force so great, we are powerless to stop it. There are things made that way. I have to go before they catch me and kill me," she persuades him, trying to make him _understand_-

He took steps forward to follow her as she quickened her pace. Taking her by the shoulders, he forced her around, attempting to keep his voice soft yet convincing.

"Look, you have a lot more in life than this shit you hate so much. I mean, it's like what, a few things?"

"Everything to me," she whispers, not going his way.

"I love you, I love you, don't do this! My god, just look at it like it's not real, _look at me, I am real, and I told you to never let yourself fall!_"

He fails to catch her again as she ran forwards to the end, and there he doesn't want to touch her for the fear he'd be the one to let her fall. In defense, her arms are slightly raised in front of her.

"You don't feel for me, I know you. I know you. I once felt for you and I even wrote you a song. But you never played it and told me how you liked it. You never wanted to hear me sing."

In response to her stare of ice, his face becomes horrified as if he had just lost all his money.

That stare-like gleaming daggers down the mental heart.

"I will always know the truth."

There is nothing he can do as she fell backwards, and he is unable to stop himself from crying out her name.

* * *

Finally, he looks at her music after her death. It is her final gift, her last conception of her talent, and all her strong emotions of love and of sorrow.

He accepts it that way as he sets the music on the stand of the shining black piano, wanting to play the piece written as a dedication to him.

The song is untitled, only with the scrawled note on the top right corner with the words that dedicate the music to him. It's not too hard of a song, and early advanced pianists can play it easily at first sight.

The notes, all written by her hand, filled the bar lines of the page. They rise up and down evenly, creating the basis of a lyrical piece.

Only its notes, carefully written in black ink, tell him it is a graceful, romantic song.

_Doloroso Cantabile_, it says on the upper right hand corner in flowing script. The piano term means to describe sadly, in a singing style.

He reads the words, then begins to play her song, as he is finally able to play well-and it begins in with a short verse of a sad melody like that of tears, the exposition. Here, she to be contemplating upon her grievance as those crystal tears grace her cheeks.

Such a beautiful tune.

It becomes more intense, bringing in a louder accompaniment, the melody singing a song of undying love and wishes. This is her song, written by her, or rather the feelings of her pain as she sits alone in her room forcing her tears back.

The melody becomes more complicated, suddenly sweeping up into rows of sixteenth notes to create a verse of anger and fury. Of hate and denial, of want and fall.

_I never should have let her become this way, _he thinks, burdened by dark guilt and regret.

It subsides to a softer volume, this time a repitition of the verse before the raging melody. Following is an intense bridge and once again, the harsh, crying tune which falls back into a soft, harmonious riff of notes blending together, smooth, crystalline.

And in the end, it fades gradually into a somber mood, ending her story of how she loved and loved, but was denied her desires her heart needed.

_Doloroso Cantabile_-through the song, she sings sadly and exquisitely with truly touching power.

The story never dies.

_I never should have let her take any life, even her own. Shouldn't have broken away, shouldn't have felt the only way I could look was up towards the standards of my pride._

_She was the only one to truly love me for who I was._

_Although the sea has taken her body, her sorrow will sing forever in this song._

_-fin_

* * *

Here's the synopsis if you didn't fully understand it: there's this stupid boy who this really unpopular girl really likes. They used to be really good friends, but the boy left her because he didn't want to be seen with her and he wanted to be with popular people to have status, power, fame, and the hot girls. He breaks away from the poor little girl, physically and emotionally for his pursuit of luxuries. Too bad little girl got so pissed at herself she started hacking. If he was there, he could have helped her, but he wasn't there beause he couldn't see what was truly good. Without him, the girl goes out of control, kills people, then herself. Boy realizes how wrong he's been in letting her go. Also, his pursuits for the 'better goods' tcouldn't satisfy him, as sleeping with the most beautiful girls proved meaningless since they could hardly feel love for each other and only desire...unlike what the little girl could have given him, the true love that's most cherished.

(sorry that was cheesy)


End file.
